


Quiet

by EnderFlash



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Mostly Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnderFlash/pseuds/EnderFlash
Summary: Willy yelled. The universe exhaled. And everything exploded.Lara Tybur, on becoming the War Hammer and learning to speak.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> It took longer than it should've, but I've finally cranked out this fic. I haven't really written since middle school and this is un-beta'd, so it might be a little rough, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> As a side note, Lara isn't mute.

Lara was twelve, and in the middle of embroidery lessons, when her aunt pulled her into the living room and gravely informed her that she would become the next War Hammer titan. 

That was a formality. Everyone had always known. Willy was bold and charismatic even at age sixteen, and their father was intent on making him the next head of the Tybur family. That decision, of course, had nothing to do with his boldness and charisma. Their roles, him as Marley’s puppeteer and her as its quietest protector, had been decided from birth. It may have even been, as she often reflected, the only reason she was born. 

She knew, because she wasn’t sent to the same elite boarding schools that Willy went to. Instead, she received private tutoring at home in the mornings, and worked as assistant to the Tybur’s head maid in the afternoons and evenings. Her only other contact with non-household members was when she was bowing her head and filling the glasses of Marleyan elites at one of the many banquets the Tybur family hosted. 

Once, when they were younger and stupider, Willy had complained to their father. “I think Lara’s been worked hard enough!” he argued, while Lara stood to the side and silently cheered him on. “She’s rarely even allowed at family outings anymore, and none of the ladies at my school have been treated this way! I’d even say it’s unbecoming-”

“Because she’s not part of the family,” Lord Tybur interrupted, darkly and terribly. “Do not refer to her as such. I’ve told you this before, Willy, and this  _ will _ be the last time I have to.” Then, while Willy struggled for words, he left the room. His footsteps up the stairs echoed in the silence, as brother and sister stood unmoving.

It was strange. Lara thought she might want to cry. 

Willy turned to her. In the chandelier’s light, his dark eyes might have glistened with something, but Lara wasn’t sure. “Lara,” he began quietly, “do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” 

They hadn’t done that since she was five and crying from a nightmare about breaking all the dishes and him nine and so determined to be the gallant older brother that he’d nearly suffocated her under teddy bears. After what their father had just said, he’d doubtlessly disapprove. But Lara nodded, and that night she snuck into his oversized bed and wriggled through a pile of worn-out teddy bears to hug him. 

He hugged her back, and then grinned and ruffled her hair. She yelped in protest, pushing him away, but he only laughed and hugged her harder. They tussled for a little bit, rolling around the bed and giggling, knocking off half of Willy’s precious bears.

“Young master? Are you okay?” 

Lara recognized the voice of one of Willy’s attendees, and both of them stilled. “Yes, Mary, thank you!” Willy called, with an appropriate amount of sleepiness. He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Alright. Please try and sleep soon, young master. You have lessons at the gallery tomorrow morning, with Sir Bismark.” Willy rolled his eyes and aped the admonishment, making Lara nearly burst into giggles again. 

The two of them lay there quietly until they heard footsteps down the hallway, meaning that now they were properly alone. For a while, neither of them talked. 

Of course, it was Willy who spoke first. “You’ll always be my sister,” he whispered, half to her and half to himself. She didn’t respond. “Even if you can’t act like it. Doesn’t change the fact that you are.” 

They were quiet for a moment longer, and then Willy began to speak again, staring over her head. “It’s not really fair.” Lara nodded, not trusting her ability to speak in that moment. “But I guess it’s not fair for anyone. Hey, Lara, did you know that we’re actually pretty lucky?”

Lara didn’t feel very lucky, and the doubt must’ve shown on her face. Willy chuckled, rolling onto his back. “Yeah. I’ve been learning about it in school. We’re Eldians, did you know? We’re descended from this devil called Ymir.”

She knew about Ymir. Everyone did. For her, though, ‘everyone’ was a very limited number. And of course she knew that they were Eldians. 

Willy continued. “But most Eldians aren’t rich like us. Most of them live in the internment zone. Because the Eldian Empire did a lot of bad stuff for a really long time, and now the Marleyans have to keep them under control. 

“We’re the only Eldian family that gets to be Marleyans. That’s because our great-grandfather had the War Hammer titan, and decided to help the Marleyans instead, and then he and the Marleyans won. Auntie Emmaline has the titan now, did you know?”

She hadn’t known that. She’d only seen Aunt Emmaline once before, during one of the rare family dinners she got to attend as a Tybur, and knew that she was a short and quiet lady who ate a lot of unhealthy sweets and fancy meats. Lara had remembered, because it was very unbecoming of a noble lady.

“Do you remember that she walked with a limp? It’s because she got hurt, once, and nearly died. Some people don’t like the War Hammer titan. Or the fact that we have it. Or both. I’m still not really sure about that yet.” 

He rolled over again and hugged her, and she let him. “You know, Lara.” His voice was so quiet that she almost couldn’t hear him, even though his face was inches away. “Sometimes, I think it’d be nice to not be a Tybur. But then we’d be one of the Eldian families in the internment zones. So I guess it’d be pretty bad no matter what.”

Willy seemed like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. She didn’t know what to say, either. So they held each other and drifted off to sleep. The next day, he politely ignored her, and his father seemed somewhat relieved. Lara treated them both cordially, as a maid-in-training would. Their lives had moved on. 

Lara thought about that night, now, as Aunt Emmaline looked at her from across the table. It had been their last night as brother and sister, before they had stepped into their roles as something more. The conversation now, in comparison, didn’t seem like much of a turning point. 

“You’re a smart girl, Lara. I’m sure you’ve known it for a while now.” Aunt Emmaline popped another chocolate into her mouth. There was a growing pile of wrappers on the couch next to her. “But I guess you wouldn’t know the details. You’ve got five years left before I croak. Maybe four, if we want to play it safe.”

Lara blinked, eyebrows raised. Her aunt noticed, and covered her mouth to chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little uncouth, compared to your mother. There wasn’t really a big rush to drill manners into me, when they were more focused on combat lessons and history classes. And after the assassin, I didn’t get to practice my talking in public much.”

To be honest, Lara wasn’t particularly excited to get to know a person she was going to eat in a couple years. What she had learned so far was already more than enough. So she kept her face blank and nodded, falling into her routines as a servant. If anyone walked by, they’d surely think that she was receiving her daily tasks from her Tybur lady. 

Her aunt seemed to realize that, too, and sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t really think this conversation was necessary. The combat classes aren’t exactly standard maid knowledge, huh? And I guess you’re pretty used to taking orders. You’ll probably never have to use this stuff.

“Actually, it’s pretty good that you’re quiet.” Emmaline laughed again. “It’s funny. The War Hammer titan is one of the most powerful titans, you know? But you don’t need to be powerful. You need to be quiet.”

Lara quietly waited for her to elaborate. 

“I think there’s one thing the tutors can’t teach you. And it’s being the War Hammer itself. Because being the War Hammer means being the War Hammer that our ancestor was, and so I’m telling you now.” Emmaline leaned forward. Lara tensed at her unexpectedly cold stare, weighty with a meaning Lara didn’t understand. “Forget all the history lessons that your tutors ever taught you. Once you’re the War Hammer, you  _ are _ history. You’re Marley’s history, and you want to be forgotten. This is history that no one else knows, and no one else needs to know.” 

Lara opened her mouth, to protest, to question, but Emmaline raised a hand and stopped her. “It’s been a century since the Eldian Empire was vanquished to Paradis. In that time, Marley’s become strong, and the Tyburs have become strong with it. The War Hammer’s job is to keep things that way. You understand? That’s what it means to hold the powers of this titan.” Lightning fast, Emmaline reached across the table and grabbed Lara’s hands, squeezing them until Lara lifted her head to match her fierce gaze. 

“Do you understand?” When Lara didn’t respond, Emmaline frowned. “Think of it as orders, Lara. You’re the Tybur family’s maid. This is how you serve.” 

At that, Lara hesitantly nodded. She wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to, but it was true; her role was that of the Tybur family’s servant. 

“Good.” Emmaline let go of Lara’s hands and leaned back into the couch, relaxing her glare. “Trust me. You won’t have to do anything. Just keep living your life, and the world’ll be fine.” 

Emmaline reached for another candy, and then pouted. The pile of chocolates had completely transformed into a loose smattering of wrappers, and she began grabbing them in fistfuls and dumping them onto the table. “You know, Lara, you’re a lucky girl. You probably don’t feel that way, being forced to be a maid and all. But it’s your father’s way of protecting you. I would know. That brother of mine wishes he could’ve done the same for me.”

Emmaline grinned at her. Then, she reached for where her crutches were propped up against the couch. Lara got up, moving to help her, but Emmaline shook her head. So Lara stood and watched as her aunt gathered herself and hobble away. 

* * *

That evening, while Lara was helping with the laundry, she realized two things.

The first was that she didn’t want to be the War Hammer titan. But she didn’t strongly oppose it, either. For such a monumental duty, it probably should’ve weighed heavier in her mind, but it didn’t. It was a role she was destined to play, and she didn’t covet it any more than she begrudged it. 

And as she palmed a freshly-cleaned teddy bear in her hands, its once-brown fur worn to a yellowed tan, she realized, secondly, that protection could be such a cruel, cruel thing. 

* * *

She was sixteen, and Willy twenty, when they talked at length again. It was at a bustling dinner party, where the richest, most influential, and most disconnected Marleyan elites laughed over petty affairs and sipped wines that would’ve cost her a week’s pay. 

She was constantly moving through the room, dutifully carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres to the tables lining the room and then bringing empty platters back to the kitchens. Though she avoided eye contact with the guests, Lara couldn’t help but look for Willy, as she always did at these events. 

He was, naturally, at the center of a crowd, gesturing emphatically and elegantly as he told some sort of tale. She recognized some of the Marleyans surrounding him, but there were foreigners, too, that she hadn’t seen before: a young Asian couple, a Middle Eastern woman, and so on. Since childhood, Willy had always surrounded himself with the children of foreign dignitaries and nobles, ever determined to raise their family’s standing, so she wasn’t surprised.

Willy must’ve said something amusing, because they all started to laugh. Lara tore her gaze away and focused on getting the dishes of mozzarella and cured meat safely to the guests. It wouldn’t do for Lord Tybur to catch her slacking. 

It was a couple hours before the musicians began to play and the crowds broke off into gently waltzing couples. The chatter relented to the sound of strings, and Lara caught her breath by the wall. 

“Lara, was it?”

Lara turned her head. It was Willy. She was almost upset by his brazenness, but he cocked his head and grinned at her, and she felt a grin forming in return. Just as quickly, she smoothed her face into a dull curiosity and bowed her head dutifully. Their relationship had mostly consisted of these fleeting exchanges for the past several years, knowing glances and nods shared outside of Lord Tybur’s purview. They shunned anything more meaningful, not just in fear of the family’s judgement, but also from the guilt of failing in their rightful given roles. 

Since she served the family, they still talked, sometimes, but in many ways it was easier to ignore the other completely. Him coming up to her, now, with no one else paying attention to them, was a dangerous move. She didn’t know what kind of game was playing at, but she nervously glanced over the dancing pairs, looking for the other Tyburs.

“It’s alright, Lara. Everyone’s busy having a good time, so one needs serving right now.” He settled against the wall a couple feet away from her, making himself only barely audible over the music. She stood ramrod straight and looked ahead, unsure how to react and choosing not to react at all. “It’s good that you’ve found the time to take a break,” he continued. “I’ve always held the staff at parties in the highest regard. It’s a difficult job, dealing with all these people, eh?”

Hesitantly, slowly, she nodded. She didn’t look at him, but like a fool, she didn’t leave.

“I have to deal with them, too, but in a different manner. The roles we play are not so different.” She side-eyed him, and he met her gaze unflinchingly. Then, his eyes softened. “Ah, well, perhaps that isn’t fair. There are worse and poorer families to serve, but I suppose you wouldn’t want to serve at all. I suppose that you might want something like to be born a Tybur, and allowed to be Lady Tybur proper. Live a life of luxury. Like me.” 

He chuckled, and she wanted to tell him that it sounded awful and wrong. “You know, Lara, I’ve sometimes wondered if it wasn’t easier to run away from it all. Haven’t you thought of that, too? But whenever those thoughts come up, I want to smack myself. So many people would kill for my privilege, to be born as me, to have the chances I have.

“I like to think that I’ve made the most of it. I’ve made powerful friends from all over the world, and showed them that Eldians, an Eldian, can be as good and human as them. But then I look at the way Eldians are treated and I think, is it enough? Am I alone enough? I have to be, but am I?” He paused. His voice was trembling. 

Lara wanted to reach out. She wanted to hold him, like he held her that night so many years ago, and tell him that he wasn’t alone. That he was her brother and she was there for him. But they were in the middle of a dinner party, full of strange guests that saw them as master and servant, and she knew that that was all they could be. So instead of doing any of the things she wanted, she gripped her apron and ducked her head and clenched her teeth. If she spoke, she might have said something dangerous and stupid, so she didn’t.

Willy looked at her for a moment, and then sighed. He sank against the wall, and in that moment, for all his golden splendor and fine-tailored wear, he looked very tired. “I say all that, but it makes me look nobler than I am. The only way the Tyburs maintain power is by distancing themselves from the rest of Eldians. We are, after all, effectively Marleyans. I suggest to my friends that Eldians should be treated better, but I’ve never interrupted the injustice I see on the streets. I donate to one Eldian school or another, but I’ve never lobbied for more public funding to the districts in the internment zone.

“A coward’s path. A role hiding in the shadows, never taking the spotlight or doing anything with it. I suppose that’s the way it ought to be.” The music stopped, and the dancers began to still. 

Willy, too, stilled, and there was an uneasy silence between them. Then, before she could think it through, she reached out and patted his arm. He turned to look at her and she quickly pulled back into neutral pose, eyes locked onto the wooden pattern on the floor. She was too scared to check if anyone had seen her lapse in propriety and judgement, or to see Willy’s expression.

Surprise, denial, or forced apathy, she could deal with. Even amusement, at her awkward and pathetic attempt at comfort. But Lara didn’t know if she could handle her brother’s fondness. 

So she resolutely stared at the ground, gripping the front of her dress hard enough that she knew she would have to iron it that night. 

“Forgive me for rambling,” Willy quietly said, straightening his back and adjusting his bowtie. “I’ve taken up so much of your time. By approaching you like that, I left you in quite the unenviable position.” He moved to mingle with the crowd again, but after a few steps, he stopped and looked back at her. “We’ll be working together for the foreseeable future, Lara. If you... if I could ever repay the favor, lend an ear sometime... please don’t hesitate.” 

Then, with that offer, he rejoined the party.

Lara didn’t move for a while. Her ears were ringing and her hands were clammy and her heart was beating hard from either hope and fear. And a small part of her crept up, asking why she hadn’t said something, anything, screaming at her to recall the way he had looked at her so desperately and tenderly and must’ve been silently pleading for her to just respond to him. 

But she hadn’t. And it wasn’t fair, because Willy had walked up to her so suddenly and broken all their unspoken rules so haphazardly, and she was always the one who had no say. 

Before she could more thoroughly reflect on Willy’s words, someone was tapping their utensil on glass, and the delicate ringing drew the crowd’s attention to its source: one Lord Tybur. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for coming tonight.” There was a polite applause, and Lord Tybur bowed through it. Then, he raised himself to his full height, looking as dark and handsome as the day he told her she wasn’t family. But now there were more wrinkles on his face, too many for his beard to hide, and his age was all too apparent standing next to his son, Willy. She hadn’t noticed Willy walk up to him. 

“I hope that tonight has been enjoyable for everyone here. The Tybur family is honored to receive you all today, and I’m sure that you have all been anticipating our announcement. It concerns the future of the Tyburs and our motherland Marley itself, and I’m grateful to each and every one of you for bearing witness tonight.”

Lara hadn’t heard about this.

“As some of you know, I’m getting in on the years. I am, too, sure that all of you here recognize my heir, Willy Tybur, and have been charmed by his splendid manner and looks at some point or another. He of course received his looks from me, but from who he learned to speak I wouldn’t know.” Lord Tybur let the crowd chuckle, and then enthusiastically raised his glass at Willy. “So allow me to be direct. On this exact day in four months, when my son becomes twenty one, he will become the 73rd head of the Tybur family. I invite all of you here to the ceremony!”

Rapturous applause broke out throughout the room, and Willy stepped up with a modest bow, but Lara barely registered the platitudes leaving his mouth. 

This day, in four months. She had forgotten that was Willy’s birthday, so she hadn’t thought much of it before, but suddenly she hated her father and mother and aunt very much. And now, dread and laughter blooming in her chest, she realized why they had looked at her worriedly when they told her, scanning her for any sign of reaction to that date and visibly relieved when she had mutedly, ignorantly accepted it, because back then she hadn’t known.

She hadn’t known that they would crown him Lord Tybur the same day they made her his War Hammer. 

Lara suppressed all breaks in her composure, except for a smile. How poetic of them. How cruel of them. 

* * *

The room leading into the chamber was small and rectangular. A single lantern dangled from the metal ceiling, and in its flickering light her aunt’s drawn face looked almost skeletal. Two industrial metal benches lined the walls of the room, but neither her nor Emmaline deigned to sit.

“They’re preparing the injection. The ceremony should be over by now, but we won’t start until the family arrives.” Emmaline, seemingly predicting Lara’s next question, smiled. “It’s tradition for the head of the family to oversee the passing of the War Hammer titan, and since my brother’s stepping down, it only makes sense for Willy to do it this time around. And it’s tradition for the previous holder to have some final words with their successor. For such grand traditions, though, I always thought it was unfair that my brother got to receive his title in the main hall, and I had to do it in this metal box.” She sighed, nudging the bench with her right crutch. “It hasn’t changed at all. Do you think they only clean it once every thirteen years?”

Lara gave a one-shouldered shrug. Her attention was on the windowed door leading into the chamber. It was dark, so she couldn’t make out much, but a bit of the lantern’s light spilled through the window to illuminate a bare patch of the stone floor and the outline of what seemed to be an elevated platform. 

It must be the platform where Emmaline would be chained, Lara realized. Chained and eaten. Eaten by her. Suddenly, she felt queasy, and hurriedly sat down. The bench was cold and hard but impeccably clean, and as her hands touched its surface, she couldn’t help but wonder how many other young Tyburs had sat here like her, waiting for the honor of having a ticking time bomb and the weight of Marley’s history strapped to their chests. 

Until then, she hadn’t realized how small the room was. Lara was used to cramped storage rooms and closets, but this room was bare, sterile, and nearly untouched. And the ‘nearly’ was what made her swallow, hard, because every marking was a reminder that the same thing happened thirteen years ago, and the thirteen years before that. It was a reminder that the same thing always went successfully, and in another thirteen it’d be her turn to be Aunt Emmaline, who was looking at her blankly.

Did that dent on the wall belong to the boot of a frustrated successor to-be, struggling to come to terms with their duty? Or maybe a shifter, scared and angry about their fate? Was that scratch from the nails of a sweaty, fearful grip, clenched tight against the bench? She scuffed her heel on the floor and wondered if she’d be able to recognize a mark she made in thirteen years. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to. 

“Hey, Lara.” Lara looked up, and her aunt was standing right in front of her. With Lara sitting down, Emmaline managed to loom over her. Her face was eerily calm, which did nothing to curb the intensity of the stare she was directing at Lara; Lara shuddered, and couldn’t help but remember the same look from five years prior. 

“Lara, be a good girl and listen. We don’t have much time, but luckily, I don’t have much to say. You’ve had most of your life to contemplate the honor and burden of the War Hammer, so I’ll go ahead and tell you that it’s neither. It’s simply a necessity. Someone needs to wield the power, and we were the unlucky saps chosen for it. If the titan power could be kept in a box in the attic, it sure as hell would be.” Emmaline scoffed at Lara’s stunned expression. “You’re seventeen now, not twelve, I can be a little blunter. 

“When you get the memories, don’t be ashamed to take some time to process them. Whatever you do, though, you need to move on. You’ll wonder about what you should do. Maybe even what you ought to do. And then you’ll discard those thoughts, because it’s about what you need to do, you understand?” 

Lara furiously shook her head. Her head was spinning and her aunt was talking so quickly and vaguely that she shrunk back, trying to collect herself and failing. 

Emmaline stared at her a moment longer, and then sighed, softening her expression. “I’m sorry, Lara. You don’t have to think about it too hard. I’m saying a lot of scary stuff, but in reality you won’t have to do anything. You’ll get it, once you.... Once you eat me.” She winced. “First time saying that out loud. It’s a weird feeling.”

She stopped talking, and the two of them shared a moment in silence. Lara studied her aunt, who now looked, unblinkingly, into the chamber, and wished she knew what she was thinking. She was trembling just at the thought of eating someone else, yet the doomed woman stood there so stoically. When she became the War Hammer, would she be that brave? Was it the power of titans that made someone like that? 

There were muffled voices and footsteps drawing nearer, and then knocking on the door opposite of the chamber entrance. “Lady Tybur, are you ready?” 

Emmaline didn’t look away from the chamber. “Yes. So’s the girl.” And as whoever knocked on the door shouted for someone to bring in the cuffs, the syringe, Emmaline opened the door to the chamber and limped in.

What happened next was a blur. People she didn’t recognize, but who must’ve been Tybur servants from somewhere, flooded into the tiny room and grabbed at her shoulders and ushered her into the chamber, which someone had lit at some point. Someone, a man, was kneeling in front of her, telling her things she had heard the night before and the night before that. His suit looked very expensive, for a servant’s. In her periphery she saw a group of people slowly escort--no, follow Aunt Emmaline up the staircase to the elevated platform. 

The chamber air was stale, and she realized that she was kneeling when her knees began to hurt. The coldness of the stone was leaching through her skirts and her legs felt numb, though she wasn’t sure if those two things were related. The man in front of her grabbed her arm from where it hung, limply, at her side, and began to raise them. Then, someone else touched his shoulder. Lara didn’t look up, even as the man let go and stood up.

Someone took his place, and a flash of gold made Lara tear her eyes away from the floor. Her eyes locked with flaxen ones, eyes that she had always wished she’d shared. They looked so sad, now.

“Lara.” Willy’s voice broke through her stupor. “Can you stand?” 

She nodded, mechanically, and did. He stood with her, and grasped her shoulders. Willy was still dressed handsomely from his public inheritance ceremony, and Lara guessed that she should call him Lord Tybur, now. His hands were larger than she remembered. 

Something was pressed into her right hand, and she closed her fingers around it. The syringe, she dimly recognized. 

“Do you know how to inject it yourself?” Willy continued. She nodded. “Good. I will be overseeing this, as the head of the Tybur family, right outside the chamber. Everything will go fine.” He squeezed her shoulder, then let go. 

Lara looked at the syringe, weighing it in her hand and watching the pale purple liquid shift around the glass. She thought that if she squeezed it hard enough it could shatter, but then she looked up to see Willy give her one last smile, and she loosened her grip, shuddering at the prospect. 

“Wait! Please, wait!” A familiar cry echoed throughout the chamber, and Lara turned to see the former Lord Tybur pushing through the people gathered in the bottlenecked entrance. He, too, was dressed finely, but his face was haggard and it looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. 

Willy jerked his head towards him in surprise, like he hadn’t expected his father to be there, and moved towards him with a stern look. “Father-”

“Please, Willy, I’m sorry. I know I said that I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t just... Emmaline!” 

Aunt Emmaline’s face was pale and tight, and she was stiff. One of her wrists were already cuffed, and the people who had been doing the deed now glanced between Emmaline and Lord Tybur, uncertain on how to proceed. “Ray, you...”

Lara watched, standing near the center of the chamber and yet very much on the sidelines, as what remained of the intimidating and charismatic Lord Tybur’s composure crumbled. He scrambled across the chamber, up the stairs, and embraced his sister so fervently that her crutches fell to the platform and the attached chain clattered, his sturdy frame dwarfing hers. “Emmaline, Emmaline, I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me. It was supposed to be me.”

Her aunt’s arms remained at her side, but from Lara’s angle she could see a flurry of emotions pass over her face, and, oh, Aunt Emmaline was crying. “Why? Why did you come?”

“Why? What do you mean, why?” Lord Tybur choked, sobs racking his entire body. “How could I not? You’re my sister, Em.”

“You damned fool,” Emmaline said, screwing her face into something that might’ve resembled irritation, if not for her tears and trembling voice. Then, her arms came up and around him, tightly, and the two of them collapsed to their knees, still gripping each other in a white-knuckled embrace. “You shouldn’t have come... You shouldn’t have...”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“But Ray,” Emmaline rasped, closing her eyes, “all I ever wanted was to protect you.”

Lara looked away. 

* * *

Lara remembered bits and pieces leading up to the injection. 

She remembered how empty the chamber was. 

She remembered Aunt Emmaline kneeling on the platform, her head hanging between her arms, which were held up by the chains. 

She remembered lining up the needle against the inside of her arm, just as how she had been shown, and Aunt Emmaline looking at her tearfully and saying, softly, “I know you’ll protect them, Lara, I know you can,” right before she pressed down on the plunger and all went dark.

* * *

In her dreams, she became the War Hammer titan. 

She learned the true history of Marley, of the Eldian Empire’s fall, and of the Tybur family and Helos. She learned that all of it was a lie, that the Eldians of Paradis never posed any harm, that the Tybur family had been built on piles of lies and let other Eldians die everyday in service of those lies. 

She learned the history that she was never supposed to speak of. She could remember talking with King Fritz as if it had been her, the disbelief, guilt, and relief of her ancestor seeping into every memory of the two’s consorting. She remembered the agonizing of her predecessors, as each of them received this horrible truth and struggled, every day of their short lives, to let the rest of the world go on ignorant. To protect the family and Marley from their shameful past.

She remembered being Aunt Emmaline, and staring into her brother, father, Lord Tybur’s concerned face, and smiling and telling him that it was alright. She remembered staring into her own face across a table, the taste of chocolates sickeningly sweet in her mouth, and thinking, Lara, if you’re listening now, then you’ve done well, and I know that you can carry on. 

Lara woke with a choked gasp, grasping at the air for a chocolate from five years past. Someone grabbed her hand, and when she shifted in bed to see who it was, she realized that she had been crying.

It was Willy. “Lara! Are you alright?” He looked at her so full of concern that a fresh wave of tears began to run down her cheeks, prompting bewilderment and flustered reassurances. He looked at her like a brother, not a lord, and that broke her up all the more. How  _ could _ she tell him the truth? That the Tybur family was a century-long fraud, that thousands suffered every day, pointlessly, so that the world could have their punching bag and the Tyburs their glory? That the two of them had thought so wholeheartedly that they were stepping into the roles of something more, something worth their lives, when in truth they were becoming something less? 

Lara inhaled, harshly, and struggled to sit up. She couldn’t do this in front of him. She ripped her hand out of his and clawed at the sheets for leverage, and then her left hand landed on something round and soft. Lara looked down. It was a pale, worn teddy bear, innocuously perched at her side. 

“Lara, please, you need to rest,” Willy tried, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder as she stared numbly at the toy. “Your predecessor spent the day after in bed, and I insist that you do the same.”

She met his eyes, and he winced, making her wonder what she looked like now. Lara touched her own face and was half surprised to feel it smooth. The War Hammer titan’s unique configuration meant that its shifters didn’t have the typical marks, she knew, but the idea that she had changed so terribly without anything to show for it was nigh unbearable. 

She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to hug her. What she managed was to grab the head of the teddy bear with the full intent of shoving it, away, into his chest, but then his hand came down on top of hers. Lara looked at him, and was shocked to see his eyes wet. 

“Please,” he repeated, and she wondered what had caused those tears, “do you remember what I said that night? That is,” and here he seemed to grow discomfit, “if you know what I’m even talking about.”

Lara could never forget that night. A part of her loathed to have him bring it up, and an even smaller part was hurt that he thought she wouldn’t remember. 

“Well, what I said then...” Willy hesitated, then buried his face in his hands with an uncharacteristic groan. “Damn it all, what am I saying? I don’t know how to do this anymore.” 

Slowly, he wrapped his hands around hers. His hands were trembling. Willy was trembling. “Nothing’s changed. Do you understand, Lara?” His voice was a whisper. “It never did. Please, trust me, when I say that. Please.”

His head was bowed, but he didn’t lean in any closer. He didn’t know how she’d react, Lara realized. 

He was wrong, she knew. Things had changed. She was the War Hammer titan now, and he was Lord Willy Tybur. They played mythical, coveted roles, the backstage directors of Marleyan political theatre, as close to the center of the world as anyone would ever get. Yet, despite knowing that, the world had fallen away around them, and in that moment only she and Willy existed, breathing, talking. 

He was her lord. She was born to serve him and Marley. There was no other reason her parents had wrangled another child out of their loveless marriage except for that the War Hammer needed to go somewhere, into someone, and she was a vessel for that necessity. 

“Lara,” Willy murmured, lightly and pleadingly, “you’re still my sister.” He lowered their hands, so that hers rested on the teddy bear. “Nothing’s changed that, and nothing ever will.”

He was her brother.

Lara did not react, as that little realization shattered something within her heart. A euphoric energy spread throughout her chest and halted her breath; a strange cocktail of fear, jubilation, and knowing. She trusted him wholly and fervently, because this was a truth that the both of them had half-tried to keep half-buried, and so its unearthing was a simple and freeing task. 

For an instant, the memories in her head quieted. Willy gave her the peace of certainty. She exhaled and closed her eyes. Then, after a moment of reminiscence, she realized that she could give it to him, too.

That evening, at the dinner party, he had come to her distressed. Willy struggled with the burden of the Tybur name, and had asked her, to no avail, if he had deserved that power. If he had done enough. If it was just or even reasonable that he, of all people, had been born as a Tybur. If it was right for the Tyburs to live as they did at all. 

These were things that he must have considered all his life. Back then, she could not give him an answer. Now, with the knowledge of the War Hammer, she could tell him that the answer to all those nasty little “what-ifs” was no. 

No, he didn’t deserve the power. No, he hadn’t done enough. No, it wasn’t right for the Tyburs to claim the power they did. No, no, no, because the Tybur family was a century-long con, its authority and imposed duties a sham, and suddenly she was determined to free Willy from it all. The two of them were born, meaninglessly, to a meaningless name, and that realization made her giddy. 

She pulled him closer to her, half-drunk on elation and ready to speak, and then a hundred years of memories crashed down on her and closed her mouth with an audible click. Only a few seconds prior Lara had thought she wanted to tell Willy, but now a crushing feeling of guilt and denial had her stupefied. Scenes flashed before her eyes: days spent alone in the bedroom, wrecked by guilt and indecision; staring across dinner tables at ignorant, smiling loved ones; a hundred years of deliberation and a hundred years of silence. She remembered, too closely, thinking the same things she thought now and deciding, time and time again, to keep the War Hammer’s knowledge a secret.

Aunt Emmaline had woken up to a brother, just like Lara. She had cried under the weight of the role and wanted more than anything to share the burden with the person she loved most in the world, but she hadn’t. Because even if she did, there was nothing either of them could do, and it was too cruel to consign another person to that same helplessness.

Lara let go of Willy, and her brother looked disappointed, but not surprised. Both of them sat there for a long moment.

It was the duty of the War Hammer to be quiet. It was the hardest task of all, and no class could have taught her how to do it. Aunt Emmaline had told her, but now Lara truly understood. 

“I’ll let you sleep, now,” Willy said, sadly. “I’ll be next door, so if you need anything, just ring the bell.” 

It was her duty. The Tybur family may be a lie, but the War Hammer was born to protect it.

Willy got up from his seat.

To protect him.

He stepped towards the door.

Lara’s eyes fell on the teddy bear. She remembered another memory--something that wasn’t Aunt Emmaline’s, or any other War Hammer’s. Something that was Lara Tybur’s. 

“Ah,” she managed, making Willy turn back around. And then she spoke.

* * *

_ Aftermath _

Willy spoke and gestured grandly, on that stage. The actors danced and swooned around him, but none shone as brightly as he, and the audience were captivated by his every word. Lara could see children near the front, and wondered if they’d survive.

She stood in the wings, in the shadows. Half of her wanted to run out and rush him off that stage, but she could never do that to him. As if he could sense her thoughts, during a lull in the narration, he turned and fixed her with a meaningful look. I know, she wanted to say. I’m proud, she wanted to tell him. I don’t want it to end this way, she wanted to whisper to him, not after so long. Instead, she nodded, shuttering her selfish wants behind a flat mouth and even brow. 

Back then, he had been shocked, then horrified, then ashamed, and then, because he wasn’t the head of the Tybur family for nothing, contemplative. He had long been suspicious of the Tyburs’ secrecy, and their father had never given him a satisfactory answer—now, he knew, because he didn’t have one. The Tybur family had operated for over a century on the will of the War Hammer. Now, the War Hammer willed things differently. 

Even now, Lara wasn’t sure if the truth relieved or burdened Willy. Once those secrets escaped the memories of the War Hammer, they had rooted in reality like weeds. Their gnarled roots crept into the hastily-filled crevices of the Marleyan political structure and grew, at her and Willy’s behest, until now they threatened to break apart the concrete of this country. The night after Willy met with that dour Marleyan commander, Magath, he had confided in Lara their plans to reduce Marley to rubble, so that it could be rebuilt into something greater. 

Lara’s selfish bedside utterance had thus become something more. Much like now, with how her brother stood on that harshly lit stage, building with words a monument to their bravery and a confessional to their sins. The eulogy of one crying man swept over a starstruck audience and rippled across the world, upturning it, moving it, and as his narration built to a climax the universe itself stalled breath. 

Willy yelled. The universe exhaled. And everything exploded.

Her brother, the final champion of Tybur glory, and the harbinger of its destruction. Her brother, flying through the air, a broken puppet tangled in its own strings. Her brother, fulfilled.

As the wreckage crashed down on her and the screams of children filled the air, she caught a glimpse of what had emerged from the building. It was a terrible thing, its jagged teeth gnashing down on what remained of Willy. She pulled herself to her knees and let her ribs knit themselves back together. When the titan, Eren Yeager, roared and turned to face the remaining audience, a devil’s eyes peered from underneath unkempt dark hair. By any definition, a monster.

But, she thought, as the steam from her wounds began to vanish, perhaps they all were. 

“Brother...” she whispered, mustering the words that she could not tell him in life, “you fulfilled the Tyburs’ duty admirably.” And then, willing the War Hammer from its slumber, she transformed. 

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter is @cottongecko, if you want to yell about AOT with me in these last few months!
> 
> A few notes: 
> 
> It's never explicitly confirmed in canon how the Tybur family has handled their secrets throughout the generations, but I'd expect every head of the family to know about the truth. In my 'verse it's a bit of a stretch to imagine that each Tybur head would just voluntarily keep themselves in the shadows without the guilt of the truth guiding them, but I did it for the added drama. 
> 
> The people present at Lara's "ceremony" are members of the Tybur family. That's why they're more fancily dressed than she'd expect servants to be. Lara doesn't recognize them, because she's been kept away from most of the family.
> 
> Lara and Willy's relationship was pretty hard to conceptualize. It's not impossible for siblings to mostly ignore each other, but I also needed them to care for each other enough to make the story work. Hopefully, I struck a decent balance.


End file.
